Michael Cluff- Two Poems

The Initial Napoleon

Between one-fifty and two ten p.m.
at the Pine Street Bakery
oddly on Brockton Avenue,
Gladys had wanted an eclair
before a doctor's visit.
I had desired a latte at Lynne's
right across the asphalt pathway,
I always give in too easily.

At fifty six
and more of a sundae proponent
such pastries
as offered there
were beyond experienced truth
so I ordered two layered confections
and waited for revelation.

Too surface dressed pretty
and sticky sweet
for pure pleasure
but unique relief
I ate one with reserve
and while Gladys guerrillaed
the top side of the other,
the otherwise clear sky
darkened as a crammed plane
headed to Ontario Airport
passed silently over her face.

Hamilton Jeffers

Tells Professor Clifford
that his physics class
taught him that hard work
doesn't equal a good grade
and that Professor Blau
even gave him a "B
and she does not even like him.

The elbow-patched teacher
does not even raise
a satiric eyebrow
knowing entitlement demands
what it will
when it wills
and then remembers his
aunt telling him once
in Atlanta
or Phoenix:
or both

going out into the backyard
and flapping your arms
as long and as intensely
and as hard as you can
with the most pure of intents
does not achieve
actual flight
but may free up
the mind for more
attainable goals.

He then glances
at Hamilton and then beyond
to the mockingbird
singing its specialized tune
of triumph.